Pariah
by xinchu
Summary: Hisana and her beginnings, broken promises and unspoken rules. In other words, what leads Hisana from an urchin to Byakuya's wife.
1. Beginning

**A/N: This is about Hisana, how and when she meets and marries Byakuya Kuchiki. Kami is my Original Character, substituted for Hisana's sister who takes care of her. No, Kami will not be in a major role. She is there out of pure necessity. **

**Please Review. Thank you very much. **

My sister had not told me that they were coming. Usually she told me everything that would happen that day, chores to be done here, going to the market there, friends visiting...

So it was with mild surprise during my sweeping that I noticed men standing at the entrance of our shabby door. They stood, erect, heads held high, smelling of incense; rich and musty, not the penny ones that the street hawkers tried to sell us at the corners of our neighborhood, not the ones that smelled like rotten cabbages that were thrown out of windows around here. One of them, the young one, wore white clamps, which marked him as nobility but looked rather painful upon his head. The other was wizened and old, coughing into a silk kerchief. He looked as if he had caught the nasty sickness that was going around. Coupled with his old age, I marked him in my mind as ready for death. It was a matter of months, weeks if the cold weather persisted.

I bowed, moving aside for them to come inside our house. The old man sniffed, hacked some more into his kerchief, and walked carefully into our main room. He looked around carefully, perhaps noticing our cleanliness, for he gave an approving nod before sitting down upon our rickety stool. The younger man stood, leaning slightly against our carefully white-washed wall. Our house was always clean; my sister believing that cleanliness was next to godliness. She always made sure that every square inch of dirt and dust was swept out, that the waste from the lavatory was dumped far away from our house, and that no foul odor resided within our shabby house. Perhaps it was her strict rules of cleaning that had kept the sickness from claiming us.

I stood carefully near the doorway, dutifully bowing my head and holding my hands behind my back, making sure not to make eye contact. Such eye contact with people of such high rank was not allowed. It would be insolent, and I did not want to give them a bad impression of me.

The old man spoke.

"Where is Kami-san?"

"At the market, sir. She will be back soon." I was careful to make my voice sound as quiet as possible. It would be bad for them to think me rebellious.

The old man hacked some more into his kerchief, before talking again.

"Who are you?"

"I…" I paused, wondering whether or not I should give them my name. "I am Kami-sama's sister." Yes, that would do well.

The old man nodded, he seemed satisfied at my answer. The younger man said nothing, and made no effort to break the stony silence enveloping us. I stood there, clenching my broom, waiting for Kami, my sister, to come back.

Many minutes later, Kami walked into the door of our house, her basket of groceries carefully arranged in their usual order. Potatoes, in great abundance, lay first, then came the lettuce, onions stacked atop of another, and last the fish, wrapped in newspaper. We rarely had meat, but our town, being near the river, had plenty of fish to sell. It was lucky that we did not live in Rukongai. Kami worked for some high-class family, and managed to secure a small, if shabby, house on the outskirts of Soul Society for us. It was where most of the families serving the noble classes lived. Here, the houses were smaller, more crowded together, but there was food to spare. Although we, being dead, were not supposed to feel hunger, the gnawing pain at my stomach in Rukongai was definitely hunger. I rarely had even water to drink, let alone food to eat, and so, was grateful at every meal, even when the soup was watery and contained little to chew on.

Kami let no surprise show on her face, and bowed deeply to the old man when she entered. However, from the way she had clutched her basket slightly told me, who was familiar with all her habits, that she was surprised.

"I did not expect you so early, Kuchiki-sama."

The old man replied, "I had no other time to meet with you."

Kami straightened up from her bow, and set her basket upon the table. She motioned towards our large main room.

"Perhaps we should discuss matters in there."

The old man nodded, and limped into the room, hacking all the while. The young man shot one disdainful look at me, and swept into the room as well.

"Hisana," Kami instructed me, "Wash and peel the potatoes." Then she too went into the room, and drew the curtain that acted like a door in our house. Money was scarce, and we did not need to waste any by buying an extravagance such as a door.

I grabbed the potatoes from the basket, rinsing them in our bucket of water we kept next to the stove. While I peeled them, my ears strained to hear the soft conversation that drifted out from the main room. I could not catch much of what they were saying, except they seemed to be bargaining something.

They talked for hours, long after I finished dinner and stood there waiting for them. Kami finally drew back the curtain and walked out. She looked tired and showed the two men out. The old man inclined his head towards me, asking, "I am assuming she shall be there next week?"

Kami nodded. "Yes, she will." Then she bowed them from our house. Turning around, she walked back in and sat wearily upon our kitchen chair, the one the old man had sat in a few hours ago.

"Come here," she motioned, "And sit."

I sat down on the chair across from her. "Oughtn't we eat dinner first?" I inquired.

Kami stared at me for a while, contemplating something, before nodding.

"Yes. Eat first, but don't wander off after. For I have many things to tell you, and it is best for you to sit and listen after you are done."

I ate quietly, barely tasting my soup and bread, guessing at what was so urgent. My mind, in a state of utter confusion at the events that had just taken place, seemed numb.

After dinner, Kami looked at me once more, sighed heavily and told me what had happened while I sat there in slack-jawed shock.

**A/N: End of chapter one. I know the ending is hurried, but I did not have enough time to write a proper ending. Perhaps I will rewrite it when I have time. Please Review.**

**Ahem, **_**Please review!**_


	2. The steps between

I headed to the Yamoto Manor the next morning (my new masters, not very rich but of noble blood owned the old and dusty manor), with spare changes of clothes, a few trinkets, all rolled up in my blanket. I wore my new yukata; the one Kami had bought me before I left. It was made of medium-quality material, but hand-embroidered with patterns of swirling winds and waves. Kami claimed the dark blue color had complemented my pale skin. I thought that it made me look sickly and weak, unable to work as a maid. Kami also claimed that it was a gift for me, and that I needed respectable clothes to wear when I was presented to the Yamoto household for inspection.

It was a bribe.

Kami tried to bribe me into forgiving her for hiring me out to some distinct family. I did not expect that—after all, Kami was usually the one to smack me in the head sharply, in place of an apology. She had given it to me along with a stammered explanation for my hiring out. Apparently the newly wedded wife of the Yamato family was a niece of some sort of the Kuchiki family's head, and needed a wedding gift in the form of a personal maid. They chose me, because, as Kami reasoned, I needed a job, and this was a good household to work for, and thus begged for this job for me. I mused on this turn of events as my feet carried me to the Manor. Kami laughed at how the Kuchiki's ran their family affairs; they bought maid as a wedding gift and personally came to inspect me to insure that I was respectable. What, she laughed that night over her cheap sake, what stupid way to waste time, was it not easier to send a housekeeper to inspect me? She spent the rest of the night snorting into her cup, occasionally commenting on the oddities of the rich, and, before she fell asleep upon the table, left me with one single piece of advice. "Those noblemen," she said quietly, "are strange folk. Watch yourself Hisana. Don't get sucked into their games." And so I was ready to leave.

I walked around the streets, away from the shabby houses and turned sharply where I would usually walk to the market. Kami's directions had been clear; it would have been impossible for anyone to forget them. Walk to Ichitaki's house, take a turn, and head in the direction of the market. Take a sharp right turn where the butcher (damn him and his high prices) sells his wares, and walk in that direction for about four blocks. Head along the riverbank when you hit it, and the house is the third one down. Simple enough.

I paused before the butcher's house. A little girl stooped before the steps, scrubbing hard at the worn stone tiles. I nodded at her; she was the little maid for the butcher, of tender age and jumpy nerves. She smiled and half-raised a hand in response before twitching her hand back down after glancing back into the house door nervously. The butcher was not known to be a gentle master.

"Rukia." I greeted. "How is your leg?"

She smiled quickly, and then lifted her worn kimono up to her ankle to show a large bruise.

"All better. Thank you, Hisana."

"That's good." I mentally thought that she was lucky she didn't go lame, with falling into the river so quickly that I barely had time to pull her out. We were blood sisters, both of us arriving in the afterlife together, her small body cradled in my arms. I had sworn to never let her go, to always keep her by my side, but Rukongai is known to breaking even the most devoted vows. Months of living on the streets led me to gratefully accept a position as a helper to Kami, the resident 'doctor'. Kami was a kind master, urged me to call her a sister, nursed me through sickness and kept the hearth warm and clean. Rukia was not needed, and any other master would have discarded her, but Kami found a place for her at the butcher's. The butcher was not kind nor gentle, prone to fits of rage, but, even if he held no qualms about beating a child, would not kill her or deprive her of basic necessities. It was more than a life on the streets promised for Rukia, and I quickly offered my sister, so young and trusting, to the rough hands of the butcher. Worse things could happen, I decided, that a weekly beating. Worse things had happened to those who slept next to us on the streets. Or maybe it was just my guilty conscience soothing myself.

Swiftly, I walked away, feeling her searching eyes upon my back. I kept an eye out for her, helped her when we washed clothes in the river, applied salves on the aftermaths of drunken beatings. Did she, I sometimes mused; ever feel betrayed by her sister? Did it even matter to me what she felt as long as she was alive, no matter in what condition her heart was in? No, no, no, the heart is nothing if the body is not alive. Quick steps towards the manor carried me far away from her questioning gaze, far away from the uncomfortable questions that haunted me at night. Onwards. Onwards. Do not look back. There is no looking back in the Rukongai, there is no second chance, and I cannot undo what I have already done to my sister.

At the end of my journey, I turned away from the dark, heavy wooden front gates to the small back gate intended for servants. Summoning what I hoped to be a humble and obedient expression on my face, I slowly knocked three times upon the worn door. My life was here now.


End file.
